The short skirt flared out and I got a glimpse of her ass. “Ready to go?” “Go?” I propped up on my elbows. “Lia, I just got home and I’m b...at.” “Oh, come on, Iris. It’s Friday and you’ve been working all week.” Lia dropped into a chair and pouted. “I don’t want to stay in. I’m bored.” “Well, excuse the hell out of me for not entertaining you every minute.” “You do this all the time. You work and come home and sit or you want to talk.” “My God, I’m a total aberration. Imagine going to work and. I had encouraged this as best I could, and so had my family. My father, in particular, had kicked in with an airmail subscription to a different magazine every Christmas, and Le Petit Larousse, a short-wave radio, and similar gifts on her birthdays. Jeanette's response had been to worry that she was being pampered. Some days I had wanted to shake her and say, "Look, can't you see that these people" [especially your husband] "are exploiting you?"That would have been wrong as well. We hadn't. More

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